the answer is death: despite his proclaimed seducer’s skills (and Liaisons has been called with some justification a manual of seduction), threatening to commit suicide is one of the most hackneyed tricks in the book. Later events in the novel give this threat of suicide an ironic twist.
field of my triumph: this turns out to be an armchair: Laclos accepts the convention of licentious writing that, lacking a bed or an ottoman (and always to strike while the iron is hot), the wide armchairs of the period were suitable for sexual intercourse, even when it occurs between two fully clothed persons of whom one is limply unconscious.
Turenne or a Frederick: Turenne (1611–75), Louis XIV’s finest army commander, noted for his thoughtful approach to the art of war. Frederick II, the Great (1711–86), king of Prussia, a superb army commander as well as an ‘enlightened’ monarch.
Capua: in the course of his campaign against the Romans, the forces of the Carthaginian general Hannibal (247–163 BC), in winter quarters in the southern Italian town of Capua, became softened by luxurious living.
eternal love: despite his attempt to analyse away his feelings for Tourvel, Valmont’s gesture in falling at Tourvel’s feet to thank her, to swear eternal love after he has possessed her (and not falling at her feet before possessing her in order to persuade her to let him do so), offers a hint of genuinely tender feeling and an at least momentary relaxation in his desire to exert his phallic authority; but it may merely be gratitude and relief. Even if, as Merteuil, presumably an expert in such matters, asserts, his feelings towards Tourvel may be described as ‘love’, they clearly do not involve abandoning his promiscuous habits, his libertine principles, and his male fatuity. Merteuil’s pride must be badly jolted to learn that it was with Tourvel and not with her that for the first time, his ecstasy had not ended after possessing a woman.
Yes, goodbye… kisses: the italics suggest that Valmont is callously quoting from earlier letters written to Merteuil during their first love-affair.
triumph is complete: sour grapes from Valmont? The irony of the statement will appear later.
have reformed him: if this conviction of Tourvel’s ability to reform Valmont was sincerely held, Rosemonde’s blame in the seduction is greatly diminished, her possible status as the moral centre of the novel considerably enhanced—and her punishment the more tragic.
But in the old days… agree: does this seemingly affectionate mention of the past mean that, despite his involvement with Cécile and Tourvel, Merteuil’s love for Valmont can be revived? Or is she hypocritically softening him up in order to deliver the coup de grace?
stating facts: but not all of them. Modesty, shame, remorse, confusion—her first orgasm ever?—ignorance of the appropriate language, socio-cultural taboos, fear of the consequences, combine to make it impossible for her to refer to the intense sexual pleasure which is bound henceforth to colour, even unwillingly or unwittingly, her future relations with Valmont.
I’ll make him … he comes: Valmont is speaking in Cécile’s name, since it is he who’s dictating her letters.
‘Plus je vis… ma patrie’: [Du Belloi, Tragédie du Siège de Calais.] This quotation from the patriotic tragedy by Du (or De) Belloy (or Belloi) (1727–75) clearly establishes the correspondence as post-1765, the date of its first performance. The translation is: ‘The more foreigners I saw, the more I loved my native land.’
perfectly happy: again we may ask whether this dwelling on the past is a hint of genuine lingering affection or a lure to make him drop Tourvel.
to leave me: an application of the doctrine of a rake, such as Lovelace: once subdued, always subdued.
I’ve since enjoyed: we are reminded of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, who ran a philosophical Paris salon from 1762 to 1776 and who once wrote: ‘there is a kind of ache so sweet and charming to the soul that one is willing to prefer this hurt to what people call pleasure.’ The masochism of Tourvel makes her an appropriate victim for the sadist Valmont.
For reasons… more of her: an example of elegant social circumlocution to impart a blunt fact, with wit: Tourvel is menstruating.
It’s not my fault: contemptuous dismissive letters were not a novelty; this one is brilliant.
‘I like… unhappy’: [Marmontel, Conte moral d’Alcibiade.] Marmontel (1723–99), a talented and widely read man-of-letters, active in tragedy, comedy, and comic opera, an important contributor to the Encyclopédie, was particularly known for his moral tales, printed in the Mercure, whose editor he became; elected to the French Academy in 1763, he was a friend of Voltaire and a great frequenter of literary salons. Alcibiades (450–404 BC) was a brilliant, adventurous general and politician, who, as Socrates’ favourite pupil, appears in Plato’s Socratic dialogues. In the particular moral tale referred to by Merteuil, he is complaining that, despite his long list of conquests, he’s not loved ‘for himself’.
the seducer… anticipate events: we recognize Valmont’s arguments, previously used against Tourvel.
Menaechmus: Plautus’s play about amusing misunderstandings arising from the similarity of twin brothers of this name had been adapted by Regnard (see note to p. 247) in Les Ménechmes, first performed in 1705.
war: this declaration of war can be viewed as the happy conclusion of a long campaign of deceit by a contemptuous and resentful Merteuil confident of matching Valmont’s male aggression. Why otherwise not persist in pursuing her proven policy of prudent dissimulation and temporization? But if she still genuinely hankers after Valmont, his brutal ultimatum could finally have caused an uncharacteristic but uncontrollable explosion of passion and rage.
bitter end: [as none of this correspondence appears to clarify this uncertainty, it has been decided to omit this letter.] Not a very convincing argument; Laclos leaves many other uncertainties unclarified. See Appendix 1, p. 373, and Introduction, pp. xxiii-xxv.
unawares again: the opposite view to Merteuil’s (letter 33); but he may not really hold this view; he wants to manipulate Danceny.
perfectly happy: Valmont brutally reminds Merteuil of the words she used to describe their own earlier relationship in letter 134. See note to p. 300.
this morning: no sooner have we read Danceny’s challenge than we very dramatically learn of the outcome of the duel; and yet again Laclos is content to leave any speculation to the reader. If Valmont has committed suicide (see Introduction, p. xxiv), we cannot exclude the possibility that his boredom already hinted at (see note to p. 247) may have led to downright accidie. He may even have felt momentary compunction at having so grossly wronged his opponent. There may even be the possibility that the greenhorn Danceny, although seemingly more interested in poetry and music than in fighting and generally despised by both Valmont and Merteuil, overcame Valmont in fair fight; his opponent is notoriously over-confident. However all this may be, in order to maintain even the pretence of writing a ‘moral’ work, Laclos had to ensure the punishment of such a scoundrel. See also the following note.
breathing his last: Laclos makes no comment; it is for the reader to surmise whether Valmont’s edifying end is intended to indicate true repentance or to be a blackly humorous sham by Valmont, playing the part of a contrite sinner for reasons of social propriety, in support of his caste and his family. We note that in any case Laclos is here breaking with the heroic tradition of Molière’s Dom Juan (to be followed also by Mozart’s Don Giovanni five years hence) of being defiantly godless to the last. If Valmont is sincerely contrite, the reader will note that, ironically, Tourvel has achieved her hope of reforming her lover, albeit far to late to help any of his victims; and the double standard still flourishes: Prévan will continue Valmont’s good work, to general applause.
humanity and religion: we must sympathize with this distraught rheumaticky old woman, tragically punished by the loss of her beloved nephew far more severely than she deserves; but it is not without irony that the immediate reaction of thi
s forbearing and devout aristocrat is not Christian forgiveness but, in the name of religion, a desire for revenge. Is the future Jacobin inviting the reader to feel satisfaction that one member of the Valmont clan will survive to suffer for his misdeeds?
herewith: [this casket contains all the letters concerning her affair with Monsieur de Valmont.]
Unsigned note: the information contained in and the tone of this letter have led Versini and others to the view that it must have been written by Bertrand.
being quoted: [letters 81 and 85.]
My daughter’s… consequences: poor Volanges! Her blindness to her daughter’s plight persists until the end.
herewith: [this correspondence together with the letters handed over on Madame de Tourvel’s death and also those which Madame de Volanges passed on to Madame de Rosemonde constitute the present work; the originals remain in the possession of Madame de Rosemonde’s estate.] Laclos continues to make commendable efforts to achieve plausibility; but he does not tell us how the letters to Merteuil from Valmont, Cécile, and others find their way into the collection.
Valmont and myself: Danceny carefully omits any mention of his affair with Merteuil; he becomes even smugger when, in a later letter, he magnanimously forgives Cécile, to whom he had originally made the advances; see note to p. 60.
Knight Commander of ——: clearly the local Commander of the Knights of Malta.
at her age: precisely the argument her mother used to justify marrying her off to a man unknown to her.
confluent variety: the blisters run together to form one slimy mucopurulent surface; very nasty.
such duplicity: young girls are notoriously difficult to portray. In Cécile, Laclos has produced a plausibly complex blend of real innocence, lively sensuality, youthful resilience, and a resourceful shrewdness that is certainly not banal, though his picture of convent education seems to foster the indiscriminate view that if they do happen to stray, convent-bred girls do it rather thoroughly.
Holland: Amsterdam was a traditional haven for refugees from governmental and ecclesiastical intolerance.
My daughter and my friend: a tragic irony: Volanges may be selfishly misguided, snobbish, and self-deluded but her greatest misfortune comes from her clear-sighted and kindly warning to Tourvel.
Publisher’s Note: not in Laclos’s handwriting, this note may properly be seen as written by the real publisher Durand, anxious to leave his options open for a possible sequel.
later adventures: Cécile is clearly unsuited to convent life. Young, pretty, having tasted and enjoyed sexual pleasures, she is very likely to become the ‘good time girl’ prophesied by Merteuil and fit comfortably into the free and easy life of her class, where her money alone will guarantee her a husband.
final retribution: we must not however forget that in letter 113 Merteuil has already outlined a strategy for a way of life for intelligent women who feel their physical attraction fading. Merteuil is moreover an extremely resourceful woman, a born survivor: with her pockmarks covered in the heavy eighteenth-century fard and rouge, a dashing eye-patch over one eye, the financial resources from the family jewels she has stolen, and an inexhaustible supply of wit, spirit, and mendacity, this young, piquant, chic French marquise can still attract male attention for many years yet.
This letter: see Introduction, p. xxiv.
into bed: this uncompleted letter, seemingly written after Tourvel has just given herself to (or been taken by) Valmont, hints that, despite her violent sexual awakening, she has mixed feelings and even qualms of guilt. However, Laclos chooses to give his novel a different turn and Tourvel’s piety will revive only after she feels definitively discarded. This would have been the ‘first letter’ required by Merteuil in letter 20 as proof that Valmont had ‘had’ Tourvel. The condition was, obviously, not met and Valmont has no right to claim his reward—a night with Merteuil.
Epistle to Margot: first printed in 1770 in a miscellaneous collection of occasional verse, this satirical poem was not attributed to Laclos until it was reprinted in 1776 in the Almanach des Muses, an annual publication launched in 1766 which printed such occasional verse, by amateurs as well as by professionals (including Voltaire); it also appeared, with other similarly light-hearted verse under the heading Pièces fugitives, in an edition of Liaisons published in Nantes in 1787. Informed contemporary critics (Grimm, La Harpe) as well as Versini consider it authenticated. Its subversive tone, the criticism of aristocratic society, and the political allusions gave its author something of a scandalous reputation.
d’Hozier: a distinguished family of genealogists.
Cythera ‘s amiable son: Eros (or Cupid) was the son of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, who landed on the island of Cythera, according to legend, after being born out of the foam.
sixteen quarterings of nobility: a touch of sour grapes? Had he possessed these sixteen quarterings, Laclos would not have been barred, as he was at that period, from promotion to the highest ranks or entry to the crack regiments of the French army.
a Marquise or a Comtesse: this comment aroused particular scandal, as it was taken to be a reference to two of Louis XV’s mistresses, the Marquise de Pompadour (1721–64) and her successor the Comtesse du Barry (1743–93), who died by the guillotine.
A Tale: an erotic tale, in the style of those of La Fontaine, which Merteuil consulted to get herself in the mood for a night with Belleroche (see letter 10). Known only in manuscript and dated by Versini from its handwriting and other evidence as an early work, it was not published until 1904. If the Epistle to Margot hints at a budding Jacobin, The Procession is not likely to have come from the pen of a devout believer; and both may be described as licentious; but we must not forget that such verse contains large elements of pure convention, including the final hackneyed image: cf. letter 4.
A SELECTION OF
OXFORD WORLD’S CLASSICS
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
Père Goriot
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
The Flowers of Evil
DENIS DIDEROT
Jacques the Fatalist
ALEXANDRE DUMAS (PÈRE)
The Count of Monte Cristo The Three Musketeers
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT
Madame Bovary
VICTOR HUGO
Notre-Dame de Paris
J.-K. HUYSMANS
Against Nature
PIERRE CHODERLOSDE LACLOS
Les Liaisons dangereuses
GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Bel-Ami Pierre et Jean
MOLIÈRE
Don juan and Other Plays
The Misanthrope, Tartuffe, and Other Plays
JEAN RACINE
Britannicus, Phaedra, and Athaliah
ARTHUR RIMBAUD
Collected Poems
EDMOND ROSTAND
Cyrano de Bergerac
JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU
Confessions
MARQUIS DE SADE
The Misfortunes of Virtue and Other Early Tales
STENDHAL
The Red and the Black
The Charterhouse of Parma
PAUL VERLAINE
Selected Poems
JULES VERNE
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas
VOLTAIRE
Candide and Other Stories
ÉMILE ZOLA
L’Assommoir
La Bête humaine
Eirik the Red and Other Icelandic Sagas
The German-Jewish Dialogue
The Kalevala
The Poetic Edda
LUDOVICO ARIOSTO
Orlando Furioso
GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO
The Decameron
GEORG BÜCHNER
Danton’s Death, Leonce and Lena, and Woyzeck
LUIS VAZ DE CAMÕES
The Lusiads
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES
Don Quixote Exemplary Stories
CARLO COLLODI
The Advent
ures of Pinocchio
DANTE ALIGHIERI
The Divine Comedy Vita Nuova
LOPE DE VEGA
Three Major Plays
J.W. VON GOETHE
Elective Affinities
Erotic Poems
Faust: Part One and Part Two The Flight to Italy
E. T. A. HOFFMANN
The Golden Pot and Other Tales
HENRIK IBSEN
An Enemy of the People, The Wild Duck, Rosmersholm
Four Major Plays Peer Gynt
LEONARDO DA VINCI
Selections from the Notebooks
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 51